The Still
by LilStrawbaby
Summary: Roslin, the Adama boys, Tigh and a still. Do with this info what you will.


The Still

By: LittleStrawbaby

Rating: I'd say 15+

A/N: This is my first attempt at this pairing. Please be gentle, I'm not Socket. bg Thank you, sister girl, you are my inspiration to finish this fic—finally. That said, this was written several months ago but never posted. All errors are mine. I don't own anyone they belong to the big dudes in Hollywood; I'm just playing with them in my sandbox. I'll try to bring 'em back clean and in one piece. Though I'm not real sure about the last part… wink

Pairing: R/T

Spoilers: "Six Degrees of Seperation"

Summary: I want this—Go away.

It took every ounce of Tigh's control to not laugh aloud. He was sitting on a gold mine and no one knew about it, at least not anyone who will talk; he made it clear that if word gets out, there would be hell to pay. He had no intentions of losing that baby.

He pokes his head outside the hatch of his quarters, looking left and right, satisfied that no one had seen him or the spoils. He reassembled the still and reluctantly left his quarters, reporting for his shift. He comforted himself with the knowledge that when he returned, there would be a special treat waiting for him.

"What are you planning to do tonight, Saul?" Adama asked tiredly.

"Oh, nothing. Just going to go over some things, you know, relax."

"Uh huh. Who is she?"  
"What?"

"What's her name?"

"There is no woman," Tigh scoffed.  
"Don't even try to lie about it. You only act this way when there's a woman involved."

"That isn't true."

"Isn't it? You are always secretive when it involves a woman," Adama observed.

"I am not."

"Need I remind you—"

"No, you don't, Commander," was the Colonel's stiff reply.

"OK then, I'll leave you to it."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Within moments of his return, Tigh was kicked back, feet propped up on his desk, tossing back a shot. He was impressed by the job the amateurs had done on the still, though he was certain they were aided by someone who knew what they were doing. He raised his glass and asked the Gods to bless them all. He poured another shot for himself and was raising it to his lips when a knock sounded at the door. He paused and returned the glass to the table. He jumped to his feet and pulled a blanket from his bunk, haphazardly covering the contraband.

He is pulling his jacket on as he hurries to the door, quickly pulling it open, surprised to see the Commander standing at his door.

"Mind if I come in?" Adama asks, weary.

"Not at all."

Tigh steps aside and allows the Commander to enter. He closes the door and turns to find Adama lifting his glass, sniffing the contents. He turns to his XO, eyebrows raised. Setting the glass down, his eye catches the ill-concealed still. He chuckles and reaches for a clean glass, filling it half full.

"That bad, huh?" Tigh asks, chuckling.

"This day has sucked. I don't know what to make of the situation with Baltar. I never really have completely trusted him; he's too squirrelly. He sometimes acts as if he's having two conversations, one with the person standing beside him and quite another with some kind of imaginary friend. Roslin's mentioned it too."

"Gods. She probably thinks he needs to have a meeting with his guidance counselor," Tight retorted.  
"I agree with her on this one. He might have been cleared of any wrong-doing, but my gut tells me he's involved somehow. He knows something."

"What do you mean? You think he knew about the Cylons' plan to attack? How could he?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to keep a closer eye on him from now on."

"That's crazy! He's been helping—"

Another knock at the door stopped him in mid-sentence and the two men exchanged a wary glance. Tigh stood and moved to open the door.

"Hello Colonel," Lee said, a clipboard in hand. "I wanted to drop off the duty roster for you."

"And you, Madam President?" he inquired, his tone mocking.

"Oh, don't mind me. Captain Apollo has been teaching me military protocols. After all, this has been one big educational experience for me, Colonel. I'm just taking notes for my memoirs," she answered serenely, her face giving away nothing. "Please, just forget I'm here. I merely wish to observe."

Lee snorted but recovered quickly, not meeting the eyes of any of the three. Had he, he would have seen Tigh's discomfort and Adama's amusement. Instead, he held the clipboard out and the XO snatched it away, skimming the pages.

Roslin, in the meantime, had begun to wander about the room, examining it carefully, looking for some insight into the man who served as the pain in her ass. She stopped abruptly, a grin spreading across her lips.

She crossed the room in four strides and yanked the blanket from the still, asking innocently, "Well, what have we here?"

The three men turned to her, all with varied reactions; Apollo was stunned, Tigh was infuriated and Adama felt his irritation stirring. The three were preparing themselves for a stern lecture, though Lee wasn't quite sure why he was going to have to suffer through it, he was an innocent party.

They watched in stunned silence when she reached for a glass, sniffing the contents, her nose wrinkling reflexively.

"Madam President, there is-"

"Got another glass?" she asked, cutting Adama off.

"Excuse me?" Tigh snapped.

"I repeat. Do. You. Have. Another. Glass?" She spoke slowly, as if addressing a child.

"You shouldn't be drinking this stuff. It's pure grain-" Adama said, but Roslin cut him off in mid-protest.

"I would like a glass, please."

"Madam President, it's moonshine. The Commander is right, you really shouldn't drink it," Lee chimed in.

"Oh, I see. So it's quite all right for Captain Apollo to have a glass?"

"Sure, if he'd like some," Tigh said. He grabbed a glass and poured one for the Captain.

The men missed Roslin's shift in tactics. She watched as Lee accepted the glass and took a swallow, gasping as it burned a path to his stomach. Roslin took the glass from his unresisting hand, downing the remaining contents. They were stunned by her bold action. They did, in fact, feel a newfound respect for her.

With a pleasant smile, she sets the glass on the table.

"Gentlemen, even us 'school teachers' have private lives." She smiled slightly and moved to the hatch, "So if you'll excuse me-"

"No way, Madam President. You wanna challenge? You got one," Tigh said gruffly, refilling her glass.

"All right," she answered, determined, "You boys ever play Presidents and Assholes?"

"Gods, how the frak is she still goin'?" Tigh slurred, struggling to focus on Adama's face.

Adama, who had his head propped up on his fist, shrugged and answered, "Dunno. But this was a _stupid_ idea, Saul."

Both slowly turn toward the sound of a phlemy snore, looking dispassionately at Lee, one side of his face squashed against the tabletop, his mouth open. Somewhere between the third and fifth shot, neither was really sure any more, Apollo had crapped out and landed face first.

Musing, Tigh muttered, "Gonna be hard to live this one down."

"Why's that?" Laura asked, her head cocked to one side.

Much to the relief of both men, Roslin's words were finally slurring a bit.

Tigh turned his head, looking at her. He noted with interest, that she had removed her jacket and unbuttoned two buttons of her blouse, exposing a bit more cleavage than usual. He nudged Adama slightly, who did a double-take and sat up a bit straighter.

"Cuz a broad drank 'im under the table."

"Broad?" she snapped, tossing back another shot. "You're such an asshole, Tigh."

"Never said I wasn't," he muttered.

"Well, at least we agree on something."

"She's right, that's uncalled for," Adama said slowly, carefully enunciating each word.

"Thank you, Commander."

"Call me Will."

"Thanks, Will. You may call me Laura." She smiled at him and it was heartfelt, not one of her patented politician's smiles.

"So tell me, Laura, what did you teach?" Adama inquired, his voice like velvet.

"Kindergarten."

"You went to college for that? Any idiot can teach kindergarten, Laura," Tigh said irritably.

Glaring at him, her tone icy, she snapped, "You will address me as the President, Tigh. And you couldn't get through a day with a with a group of kindergarteners."

"I'm the XO of this ship. I can get through more than a day with a bunch of little brats."

"The hell you could. You can't have a nip of Ambrosia every time you're feeling a little stressed."

"OK everybody, I think it's time we call it quits."

"The hell it is! This-if the _President_, and I use the term loosely, wants to start something, she better be able to finish it."

"I'm finishing it, Colonel. That's an order," Adama said, an edge in his voice. His tone softening, he asked Roslin, "May I escort you to the deck and stay with you until your shuttle arrives?"

"Actually, Will, I'm staying aboard Galactica tonight. In visitors quarters."

"Really?" Adama and Tigh chorus, their expressions curious.

"Yes, Captain Apollo and I were planning on a late night tonight. He's giving me a 'quiz' over everything I've learned. He wanted to see how much information I'd retained," she giggled, "Well, he _was_ going to quiz me…'til he passed out."

Adama gets to his feet and sways unsteadily, grabbing the table for support and falling back into his chair. He glanced up at Roslin and Tigh, who were both grinning. He laughed in response, suddenly finding the whole situation unbelievably funny.

"He is _so_ trashed," Roslin laughed, lightly slapping Tigh's arm with the back of her hand.

"Will, stay here tonight, sleep it off. You don't want anyone seeing you like this."

"I'll be fine," he slurred, grinning.

"Help me get 'im into bed?" Tigh asked Roslin.

"Of course."

The two stood, and each took an arm, standing on either side of him. They slowly made their way to Tigh's rack, supporting Adama the whole of the way. Tigh took most of the burden while Roslin pulled back the sheets; together they manhandled him into the bed.

Winded, they stood side by side. They turned to each other, eyeballing the other warily. Tigh touched her arm lightly, inclining his head toward the hatch and she nodded her agreement. Neither could deny that they worked well together, that united they were a formidable team.

Once outside, the door closed behind them, Tigh said, "You want me to walk you to your quarters?"

"Yes, I do," she replied, much to her surprise.

"OK."

Silently, they walked side-by-side, much closer than either would have normally been comfortable with, but with alcohol consumption comes lowered inhibitions. They reached the visitor's quarters and stopped outside her door. They stood for a moment, somewhat awkwardly, just looking at one another, not knowing what to say.

They had reached an accord once; they had chosen to ally themselves to each other for a common goal, and it was without a word that Laura pushed open the hatch and stepped inside. She turned, meeting the XO's gaze, a slight smile on her lips. She extended her hand, taking his, pulling him inside.

He entered and closed the door behind them. When he turned, Roslin pushed him against the door, her hands cupping his face, kissing him passionately. Tigh was stunned for a moment but responded, gripping her hips and pulling her tightly against him. She broke away, gasping, meeting his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry, Colonel. I shouldn't have done that," Roslin murmurs, her cheeks stained a heated pink. She turned away from him, rubbing her forehead, confused by her actions. "I don't know why…you may go."

"Who says I want to go?" he asks softly.

She whirled to face him, stunned. "What?"

Tigh gripped her shoulders and they shared another heated kiss. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her body against his, burying his free hand in her long hair. She did not resist him; she wanted this as badly as he did. They frantically removed clothing between fervent kisses and soft touches. When he lay on her bed, she climbed in after him. When he pushed into her soft, wet heat, she moaned and pulled him closer. When he pulsed into her, her hands found his ass, driving him deeper and she climaxed, her soft cries of pleasure filling him with a sense of pride.

She awoke several hours later, lying on her stomach. As Laura came fully awake, she noted the warm body she was sprawled across. She gasped and tried to pull away, but Tigh held her firmly. _Oh Gods, it _wasn't_ a dream. _She froze, listening closely for any sign that Tigh was awake. He uttered a small snore and Roslin closed her eyes in relief.

She didn't want to move for fear of waking him, nor did she wish to continue lying across him until he awoke. She knew with every fiber of her being that she had made a gross error in judgment; she had used Tigh to pretend for a moment she wasn't as alone as she felt. She needed his strength, the solid warmth of his body and the sensation of his skin against hers. She needed to feel alive again. It was this realization that spurred her movement and she pulled away from him.

Glancing at him again, she mused that he must feel the same. Even in slumber, he had turned away from her, lying on his side. She closed her eyes, remembering how he had rolled off of her the first time, both of them struggling to catch their breath, resting side by side. They didn't speak, nor did they touch. Roslin needed that silence; she needed to collect herself now that her desire had been sated. Now she must now find a graceful way to extricate herself from this.

It occurred to her that seeking out his warmth in her sleep was contrary to her belief that she needed no one, that she was an island. Tigh had held her as they slept, he hadn't attempted to free himself from her; he had turned away only after she had moved, breaking contact with him. This realization terrified her. She hadn't needed anyone in years, she had not allowed herself to; needing another person was dangerous and she didn't want to start now.

Laura froze at the sound of his deepening breathing; he was waking. She practically leapt from the bed and reached for her robe, quickly wrapping it about her body and knotting the sash before turning to face him. Forcing the images of their entwined bodies from her mind, she dug her nails into her palms, willing the return of her rigid self-control.

"Laura?" he asked, groggy.

"Yes," she answered, noncommittal.

"What time is it?"

"It's 04:45 hours."

"Gods, how long have I been asleep?"

"I don't know, I just got up myself," she said irritably.

"OK, calm down, I was just asking."

"You calm down!"

"I'm perfectly calm. You're the one who's raising your voice and drawing attention."

His logic was correct and she knew it, which pissed her off all the more. She was all over the page emotionally and, try as she might, she seemed incapable of controlling it. She began to wonder if it wasn't a side-effect of the medication.

"You should probably go," she said coolly, turning her back to him.

Tigh was on his feet quickly and at her side. He grabbed her by the arm and turned her around. "What the hell is going on here, Laura? What is this all about?"

"This?"

"Don't get cute. This, us."

"There is no 'us,' Tigh. We had sex. That's not a relationship. Release me. Now."

"That's it? That's all I get?" he asked quietly, his arms dropping to his sides. "It was an all-night roll in the hay?"

"What do you want from me?" she demanded harshly. "You've

had my body, my heart and mind aren't for sale."

Tigh stepped back at the venom in her tone. It hurt him that she thought so little of him, that she had such little regard for his feelings-if she thought he even had any. He searched his mind for something, anything, to fire back at her with.

"I don't want your heart, it's frozen. Your mind? Why would I ask for something so simple? And your body? I've definitely had better," he said, scornful.

"You bastard. Get out of here!" Her response was muted, her expression controlled but he knew his words had hit home.

"What's the matter, Laura? You can dish is out, but you can't take it? If that's the case, perhaps you should keep your thoughts to yourself from now on."

"Gods, you're such an ass!"

"Sticks and stones."

"Get out of here."

"You've spent a lot of time running from your feelings, haven't you?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, but I do. You focus everything you have to give to others, to escape facing your own feelings. I drink to escape mine. I know you because we are the same. We hide so we don't have to feel."

"That's a lie," she murmured but her words are feeble even to her own ears. She knows he speaks the truth but she's not ready to admit it aloud yet…she can't.

"Is it?" he asked gently.

"I…"

"It's OK, I know you're not ready. For this…thing."

"I can't do this, Tigh. Not now, not ever."

"You can't or you won't? It's up to you, Laura. You can suck it up and deal with your past, perhaps find some happiness…or you can't, and remain as you are, unhappy and alone."

He turned away from her then and crossed the room, gathering his clothing. He dressed quietly, keeping his back to her. He sits on her bed, pulling his boots on. He loosely ties the laces of the one, then the other, lifting his head slowly, catching sight of a satin blue robe before him. His eyes found hers and he was startled by the intensity he found there, though what she was feeling was a mystery to him.

"I'll be out of here in a minute."

"You don't…" she broke off, her voice cracking.

"What?" he prompted.

"You don't have to go. I-I want you to stay."

Knowing how difficult those words were for her, he nodded, taking her hand, "I'll stay with you."

"Thank you."

He nodded and kicked off his boots, pulling her close, his hands on her hips, resting his forehead on her belly. She cradles the back of his head with her hands, softly kissing his forehead; this is the best she can give him, the most she will allow herself. After a long moment he raises his head, smiling lazily, staring into her eyes. She returns his smile and kisses him softly. _This is goodbye_, she thought with some measure of sadness.

Whispering, she says, "Do you honestly think there's a snowball's chance in hell we can make this work?"

"Everything we do is chance."

"Spoken like a true philosopher," she teased.

"Even I have my moments," he chuckled.

"Yeah, sometimes you get lucky and call it right."

"But you're not going to invest yourself, are you?"

"I can't, Tigh. At least not right now," she murmured, closing her eyes, wanting to extricate herself from him but needing to stay.

"I understand."

"No, you don't."

"I do and I don't," he admitted, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I need you to tell me now if this won't work for you."

"I'm sorry, Laura, it won't. I'm not looking for this any more. I want more than a vague promise and a full-time frak buddy."

"I understand, Tigh, I do," she replied, her eyes soft. "It's is why I asked you to leave. I knew what you wanted and that I couldn't give that to you."

"Are you going to have a problem working with me in the future?"

"No, will you have a problem working with me?"

"No."

"Then we're back to resenting the hell out of each other?" she sighed.

"No, I don't think so."

"Good, I don't think I could keep the pretense alive."

"Nah, me either. We'll chalk up our new-found friendliness to creating better working relations. We've each learned to work together as a team," he finished with flourish.

"Are you for real?"

"It's very good bullshit, don't you think?"

"Very impressive. I'm willing to roll with it."

"Good," he nodded, hugging her, a sly grin appearing on his lips. "What would you say to…y'know, one last fling? We'll never see each other this way again…"

Roslin grinned wickedly and pushed him onto his back, straddling him. "I think that can be arranged."

The End


End file.
